


Giant Trashpile

by Vanamiya



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Awakening Anders - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Oneshot collection, Tumblr Prompt, attempted suicide, kind of character death, seriously I'm putting everything in there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/pseuds/Vanamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Calling Fenders “trash” is really irresponsible, I mean with all the glowing it’s pretty clear they’re radioactive waste and need to be handled separately from regular trash" - quote by a friend.<br/>"But Van, will even anyone click on a fanfic that is called Giant Trashpile?" - I suppose I'm a about to find out!</p><p>This is a collection of all the drabbles and oneshots I have written and uploaded on tumblr but not here. So of course there will be various different settings and moods. They're all Fenders though because I live in the Fenders dumpster and I can't get out.<br/>One man's trash is another man's treasure, so maybe there's something for you in here, too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Any minute Now

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at writing something Fenders flavored and since it was my first attempt... I don't even want to look at it anymore. orz But I'm going to upload it anyway because... reasons.
> 
> Warnings: Attempted Suicide

Any minute now, it was going to be over.

Everything around him was quiet, as quiet as a place in dark town could be with the shuffling of rats and other vermin in the sewers behind a wall und underneath your feet. Compared to the excruciating silence he had experienced during his year of solitary confinement, it was a rather welcome background noise.

Anders sat on his bed, waiting, feeling feverish and skittish. There were blue cracks on his skin, a leftover of his fight against himself, against Justice. The spirit, or what was left of him, had not wanted him to do this. There were still too many mages that suffered, that needed his help. His work was not yet over.

He knew, however, that he would not be able to finish it. Not like this.

He had killed a mage. Not even a Blood Mage, no, it had been an innocent circle mage without any means to defend herself. He had tried to save her. And he had ended up killing her. And Hawke had done nothing to prevent it, had simply stood by and watched, had stared at him with this judging look that had shadowed over his eyes ever since the day that his mother had been killed by some madman. Madmage. People like him made protecting mages that much harder.

It wasn’t just the fact that he had killed this girl, Anders had realized with frightening clarity, it was the fact that he knew it could happen to him again. He would lose sight of himself and let Vengeance take over and once he regained what little sanity he dared to call his own, the blood of Templar and mage alike would cling to his hands.

He couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t bear the thought of destroying what he had desperately tried to protect all this time. That was why he was going to end it.

Outside his personal chamber, the clinic was in shambles. Cots were flipped over, the supplies he had rearranged not too long ago were strewn all over the ground, elfroot potions and salves mixing with the dirty Darktown floor. It smelled of smoke, herbs and the crisp but heady hint of the fade.

It had been a struggle to win against Justice and drink the poison. The bottle still had to be somewhere amidst the chaos. It was a wonder he had even won the fight, he would almost have anticipated to, instead of going through with this, end up on top of a heap of corpses that he had killed himself. He wouldn’t put it past Vengeance, not anymore.

I can’t live like this. I can’t live like this. I can’t live like this.

He had repeated this mantra in his head, over and over and over until it drowned out the spirit as well as all of his doubts. After he had gotten it over with, Justice was still glowing on his skin but didn’t take over his mind. He was quiet. It was almost like he tried to say good bye.

Anders missed Justice. His friend Justice. He would never have believed it, but he had realized while he had wobbled towards his bed, waiting for the poison to take effect (it was going to work slowly but surely, the admittedly shady merchant had told him), like this, merged with a spirit and struggling to understand where he ended and Justice began, he felt even lonelier than he had before.

Surely, after his sudden burst of magic, the Templars were already on their way to investigate. If they arrived here, he would at least not die alone and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of being able to put the mark on his forehead.

“Mage?”

It was just one word, cutting through the buzzing and storming in his own head, but it was enough to rip Anders from his musings. He knew that voice but even if he hadn’t recognized it, there was only one who would ask for him in such a manner in his own clinic.

But why? Why was Fenris here out of all people that could have arrived during his last moments?

Not that he had wanted anyone to come for him. He didn’t want to hurt his friends. And Hawke… it was impossible to even meet his eyes nowadays. Maybe Fenris wasn’t even the worst last company, Fenris was no friend, Fenris hated him. He was surely going to celebrate his death. At least someone was going to be happy.

It didn’t take the elf long to find him and when he did, a deep scowl settled on his face and he took a tentative step back.

“So the demon finally gained complete control over you? It took longer than I expected.”

Anders answered with a wry smile.

“Is that a compliment? Coming from you, it almost sounds like praise.”

One of Fenris’ arms hung uselessly at his side, bleeding through a sloppily applied bandage and dripping on the floor. Anders’ smile vanished.

“What happened? …oh, don’t worry, I’m not possessed. Not more than usually, at least. Maybe a bit more. Justice… is having some issues.”

He could not even tell the elf the truth. The elf that would have been happy about his demise and that still came to him for healing. Hypocrite.

“A mission. With Hawke. It’s not important. What happened to your clinic?”

Anders made a vague gesture at himself and the cracks in his skin where the fade seemed to bleed into the real world. Then he gestured at Fenris to come closer. The elf didn’t move.

“You’re acting strange, mage. I will look for a traditional healer until you return to your normal madness.”

Something stirred inside Anders. Something old and deeply buried. Memories of a pitch black room and no contact to the outside world and Anders begging for his guards not to leave him alone after they brought food. Loneliness was an ugly thing.

“No! Please… please don’t leave me, Fenris. Please, I need… I…”

He the elf’s attention but said elf looked more than suspicious. Finally, Anders warily put his hands on his lap, staring at his knees because he couldn’t meet Fenris’ eyes.

“I’m going to die soon.”

“What?”

Ah, Fenris sometimes really had a way with words. But it wasn’t surprising. Anyone would have had such a reaction upon hearing this kind of revelation, wouldn’t they? The upward twitch on his lips was back, resigned and tired, just like he felt.

“I took poison. I’m waiting for it to start working. I couldn’t… Please, don’t leave me, I don’t want to die alone.”

Fenris’ footsteps were silent as always as they closed the distance between door and bed. A strong hand found its way to his throat, digging the sharp metal of his gauntlets into Anders’ skin. He was forced to look up into enraged green eyes.

“You did what? All these years you spent ranting on and on about mage rights and never stopping and now you kill yourself?”

“Some fates are worse than death.”

He had told this Fenris before, years ago. Maybe the elf didn’t remember but his hold on Anders’ throat tightened.

“And what would that be in your case? The Templars didn’t catch you.”

“No but I killed a mage. The very mage I wanted to protect. I lost control over myself and-“

He tried to swallow but the grip on his throat made even talking hard. Thankfully, Fenris let go of him, as if only the mere touch burned him, standing back and clutching his injured arm again. He hadn’t been present during this incident. Anders briefly wondered if someone had even told him about it.

“You were right, Fenris. I’m a danger to everyone around me. It must feel great. You can gloat while waiting for me to die. I won’t even argue, just don’t leave me alone. Please.”

He was outright begging now, it was disgusting and embarrassing. If there was one thing he wasn’t going to take with him into the grave, it was his dignity. And there was Fenris’ wound. He couldn’t leave the elf like this. Tentatively, he reached out with one hand and when there was no movement to indicate withdrawal or an attack, he cast a healing spell. It sputtered slightly at first, making the glowing on his skin flicker, while Fenris’ lyrium marks came to life, the elf’s face turning from a deep scowl to slight discomfort. It was an improvement. Anders felt the slight pull of the lyrium, tingling and powerful but tamed into pulsing through swirls and junctions endlessly. Healing Fenris was like getting to taste the sweetest drug but knowing you could never have it. It calmed him, somewhat. Dying didn’t seem like such a bad thing if only he could feel more of this…

“Mage.”

There it was again, that one word cutting through his thoughts and Anders twitched, looking up at Fenris with surprise, a tinge of embarrassment glowing on his cheeks.

“Sorry.”

“You didn’t have to die.”

“It was an accident, I was only healing, I… what?”

Anders had been prepared to sputter half-hearted excuses as to why he had lost his self-control, trying to get high off of the lyrium markings but this had not been the kind of reaction he had anticipated. To be honest, out of all possible things Fenris could have said, this seemed like the most unlikely. Was this a dream?

No, it wasn’t and Fenris actually sat himself next to him. If there was a maker, this had to be his cruel idea of a joke, even if it was a welcome one nonetheless.

“Suicide is not the answer to such a petty problem, mage.”

Now that stung.

“Petty?! I killed what I was trying to protect! I’m not one bit better than a Templar! I had not been able to discern between friend and foe and if that happens to me again, if I end up hurting someone close to me, I…”

“I was right, yes. You are weak and a danger to everyone around you. I did not, however, offer you to kill yourself as a solution. You never asked me what I would have advised you to do.”

“And what would that be?”

Scratch what he had thought, suddenly the thought of dying alone wasn’t so unappealing anymore. He had said he was going to accept whatever Fenris may have wanted to throw at him but this was too much. Not even during his last moments was he granted some peace of mind. It wasn’t even surprising anymore.

“I would have advised you to become stronger.”

Anders choked on his own spit, staring at Fenris. This was it? This was all Fenris had to say about this matter? Become stronger. As if it was that easy. Just like that.

“Don’t stare at me like that, mage. I’m telling you this because I know you can. Or… could. You have the potential to be strong. When you look after your patients or save those mages you hold so dear, you are. The only one holding you back is you.”

It was strange. Something had flown into his eyes. Both of them, at the same time. And now they felt hot and burned, washing out whatever it was that had landed in them. What a curious coincidence.

The one thing that probably could have kept him from being so foolish and Fenris had to be the one to tell him. After he had gone past the point of no return. The maker really had a thing for dark humor, one had to give him that.

The soft humming of lyrium was back but this time, it curled around Anders instead of him pulling at it with a spell. Fenris had shifted closer, his markings giving off a soft glow. It was probably the most comforting thing the elf could have done without actually hugging Anders.

“Doesn’t that feel uncomfortable for you?”

Anders’s voice was a mere choked whisper by now. A sob wrenched itself from his throat.

“You like it, so accept it.”

Observant elf. And Anders had always been so careful to not show any kind of reaction whenever he was healing him. Not that it still mattered.

“I… I think the poison is starting to work, I feel like I’m slipping.”

He wanted to lean on the warm body next to him but the spikiness of Fenris’ armor kept him away. He was lulled in by the lyrium and felt like he was swimming. In the end, the spikes didn’t bother him anymore. It became hard to hold onto something. To still want something. Darkness seemed so much more appealing. No dreams, no reality, no magic, no spirits, no heartbreak, no Darkspawn and no fearful face that haunted him behind his eyelids.

Amidst the darkness, he heard that clear and cutting voice again. It was so nice to listen to when it wasn’t filled with anger.

“Anders…? I want you to know that I don’t hate you. I never hated you.”

Fenris sounded… regretful. Almost guilty. Anders wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to feel that way, that it was better like this. But the darkness had already taken a hold of him and wouldn’t let him go. At least he felt no pain.

Anders did however feel pain he woke up again. A horrible pounding in his head that made him groan out and roll on his bed. That however only worsened the pain.

He treated himself with some of his own healing magic before even attempting to open his eyes.

He was on his bed and there was Fenris in his room, holding his sword, in front of the lifeless corpses of three Templars. The realization hit Anders like a rabid bronto.

He was still alive.

“Whatever you took, it didn’t manage to kill you, mage. I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

Fenris was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Sometimes, one would think he had the face of a statue, beautiful and smooth, yet you would never be able to see behind it.

“We need to leave.”

The elf proceeded to rather nonchalantly pull at Anders’ arm until he relented and got up, albeit with difficulty. He had the look of a man woken from the sweetest slumber just to find out that his wife had fled, his house had caught on fire and there was a bounty on his head.

“W-what? Why?”

“Do you see those?”

Fenris poked one of the dead Templars with the tip of his sword.

“They came here because they found out about your quarrel with your demon. There will be more, so we cannot stay here.”

Anders stared in disbelief. Had the biggest magehater in Kirkwall really protected him from Templars? If he weren’t a mage, he would have believed that this had to be a dream. But this was reality, however confusing it seemed.

“Where will be go?”

For a moment, the elf seemed troubled.

“I don’t know yet. But since you’re too incompetent to even kill yourself properly, I shall remain at your side.”

There was still a bit of the old Fenris present after all. In a way, that was comforting. Maybe the real joke had been that he was not meant to die all along. Not yet, at least. Not while he still had lives to save and a broody elf to nag at him.


	2. The Anderfel Cleaver

“I see you have a new weapon.”

Anders craned his neck, trying to get a good look at the new and shiny battleaxe on Fenris’ back. They were on their way out of Kirkwall, accompanying Hawke and Isabela to the wounded coast for Maker knows what. At this point, he didn’t even want to know anymore.

“I never thought you were the type for axes. It seems a little flashy, don’t you think? Doesn’t fit the whole ‘tortured slave from Tevinter’ look.”

The battleaxe itself had the shape of a bird, partly covered in gold, its wings spread out and ending in two sharp blades. It looked like the kind of weapon that existed to make an impression instead of being an actual tool of war.

Anders wasn’t exactly sure why he even brought up the issue. Maybe because it seemed weird to see Fenris walking around with something other than a sword that was bigger than him. That would be like seeing Varric growing a beard or Knight Captain Cullen with straight hair. Preposterous.

Green eyes were suddenly on him, all but pinning him to the spot with the intensity of the look Fenris gave him. Anders almost feared that the bloodthirsty elf was going to try his new weapon on him now.

“It was a gift.”

Anders blinked and needed a moment before he could answer “A what?”

“Are you deaf, mage? Why don’t you ask Hawke about it, I’m sure he will love to tell you once he is done choking.”

Both Hawke and Isabela, who were walking in front of them, used this as a cue to let their previously concealed giggling evolve into full-blown laughter and Anders suddenly wondered if he had become the butt of a joke without realizing. But if that was the case, then he was at least not alone because Fenris’ ears were twitching and that usually meant extreme embarrassment.

“Ask him what his weapon is called! Please!”, Hawke somehow managed to say between bouts of giggling and snorting.

“Uh…”

“It’s called The Anderfel Cleaver. It’s not that funny, Hawke.”

“Oh, but I think it is!”

Isabela had slowed down now, walking right next to Fenris as close as the elf would allow and giving Anders a quick wink while she was there. Anders for his part had lost every desire to still be part of this conversation because he had a hunch where this was going and for once he agreed with their broodmaster.

“I bet with this, you can cleave… hard… and deep… all night long. What do you think, Anders?”

There were mental images. Not necessarily involving the battleaxe but definitely involving Fenris and 'hard and deep all night long’. Anders took a deep breath in hopes of it calming him down.

“I think… my patients need me. I should… go.”

And with that, Anders was leaving, ignoring Hawke screaming, “Hey! I need my healer!”, after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is was a silly little piece about one of my favorite weapons in DA2 - The Anderfel Cleaver!


	3. Prickly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have something with Awakening Anders in DA2 because I love Awakening Anders and I love shipping him with Fenris. Just like last chapter, I can't say, that it's very serious.

“You know, I really wonder how far down those tattoos go. You don’t have to tell me, showing me would be enough.”  
  
Fenris glared. That mage was doing it again. Leering at him, undressing him with his eyes. He had threatened to rip his heart out of his chest more times than he could count. Anders didn’t even seem to take him seriously.  
  
“If you want to keep your life, mage, you will avert your gaze.”  
  
“But I’m looking at the hottest guy in the room, myself not included! How could I not stare? And that scowl of yours only makes you even more irresistible.”

Fenris groaned. He had no patience for any of this. Why Hawke had decided to include the mage into their upcoming expedition into the Deep Roads, he would never know. “A Warden would be useful.” Hawke had said. But who told them that Anders was even telling the truth? He seemed like the type that would lie to get what he wanted.  
  
“You know, I used to have a cat. The Wardens made me give it away but… you have pointy ears, too. And if you can purr and like scritches behind those ears…”  
  
Suddenly, a clawed hand was just short of touching Anders chest, glowing dangerously. If Fenris moved just a bit further, it would be buried deep within Anders’ ribcage. “Speak no further.”  
  
“Alright, alright! No need to get all glowy on me!” Anders held up his hands as a peace offering, though it wasn’t exactly convincing. He barely managed to keep his grin under control.  
  
Fenris only huffed and walked away. Not long afterwards, Isabela appeared next to Anders. “You don’t exactly look like someone whose life had gotten threatened just a few seconds before.”  
  
A dreamy sigh escaped Anders’ lips “He’s just so perfect. I shall name him Ser Prickly-Butt.”

* * *

As it turned out, Fenris didn’t purr. And he didn’t like scritches behind his ear. But Fenris glowed when he was excited and Anders could feel that glow like a tingle throughout his whole body. If he could, he would have been the one to purr.  
  
5 months and 13 days. It had taken this long to finally get into Fenris’ pants. There had been bets and to everyone’s horror, Aveline was winning. Not that the others knew about this yet because Anders was currently too busy grinding against his favorite prickly elf.  
  
For someone who had been very vocal with his rejections, Fenris kissed him like he would die if he didn’t put every ounce of passion he could somehow find into it. And Fenris definitely had a lot of that, as Anders soon realized. Fenris tasted of wine, but only slightly, most of the bottle was now decorating one of the walls in that moldy, decrepit mansion of his. It had almost hit Anders when Fenris had thrown it.

At least they had a bed here and soon, Anders landed on it with a thud before Fenris joined him, There was shuffling and panting and between bruising kisses and attempts to get out their clothes, Anders was struck with the uncontrollable urge to just… touch Fenris, run his hands over those alluring white lines, maybe trace them with his tongue… there were so many possibilities, how could anyone expect him to decide?  
  
“You’re leering again.” Fenris informed him when most of his clothes were gone, only his leggings remained for now but Anders hoped they would follow soon. His own pants felt incredibly tight just at the mere sight.  
  
“I just… want to lick you all over. Please let me?” He sounded just as needy as he felt. 5 months and 13 days of flirting, teasing and getting threatened. But he had stayed persistent because he had known that eventually, it would pay off.  
  
And damn if he hadn’t been right about that.


	4. Cat!Anders and Wolf!Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a tumblr ask that said "Ok, but consider: Cat!Anders falling in love with Wolf!Fenris" and well, I did!

“A wolf, Isabela?”

“Yes! I considered bears and spiders but they’re a little too… bulky. What do you have against wolves?”

“Nothing! Just…” Hawke paused, scratching his head while he looked at the feral creature. The wolf looked at him with brilliant green eyes. Strange eye color for a wolf but that was only part of it. The wolf was white but when you looked very closely you could see faded gray lines all over its fur. Beautiful but also dangerous, just like Isabela. Well, maybe not as filthy.

“I never took you for the ranger type of rogue.”

Isabela laughed. “Oh, me neither, Hawke, believe me. So, can we come in or what?”

Hawke frowned, looking back inside his house before turning towards his unexpected guests again. “I’m not sure how everyone will react to your new… friend.”

“His name is Fenris. That means “little wolf”. Oh, don’t look at me like that! It was Merrill’s idea and you’re hardly one to judge. You called your dog “Dog” and your Anderfelan cat “Anders”!”

Speaking of which, he wondered how his pets would react to the wolf. Dog was usually a good boy and as long as Fenris wouldn’t try to attack him, he surely wouldn’t, either. Now, Anders… Anders hated dogs. Which was, of course, a completely normal characteristic for a cat. It had taken a while until he had even accepted Dog in his presence. Now he sometimes sat on Dog’s back when he was too lazy to walk but other than that, he tried to keep away from the other animal and especially his slobbery tongue. Dog liked Anders a lot and always wanted to lick him which mostly ended in a slap with sharp claws and lots of whining.

Sighing, Hawke moved away from the door and led the two guests into his home. Bodahn greeted Isabela but watched wolf curiously while Sandal excitedly exclaimed “Doggy!”

Dog just came out of the library, most likely having smelled the foreign scent of the wolf. Hawke and Isabela both watched as the two canines circled each other, warily sniffing the air. In the end, they seemed to reach a peaceful conclusion. The other was no danger. Isabela smiled and nudged Hawke with her elbow. “See, I knew it would be fine.”

While the two humans went into the library to have some wine and talk, Dog offered Fenris a place by the fire. It was warm here and it seemed like his human and Isabela wanted to be alone. Well, that was just as well, now that they that they had confirmed that they were fine with each other, they could just lie near the warmth of the flames and relax.

Soft paws walked down the stairs, making no sound. Of course Anders had heard the commotion on the first floor and he wouldn’t be a proper cat if he didn’t investigate but only after the danger was assessed. He smelled a strange scent. A creature that was… doglike, but not quite a dog. Great, more disgusting, slobbery creatures. If the one already living here weren’t fool enough to let him ride him, he would stay away from them entirely.

Now what Anders saw when he reached the first floor was definitely not what he would have expected. The doglike screature seemed a lot more dignified than Dog. Beautiful, even, if he was one to judge. And the scent… it wasn’t bad, actually. Anders came closer, slowly, walking as softly as his catpaws allowed him to. The creature was male and he had his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the warmth of the fire crackling nearby.

Dog whined softly but Anders completely ignored him. He stood directly in front of the other dog’s head, sniffing curiously. Ah, he had the urge to rub his head all over the white fur but before he he could actually do so, the dog opened his eyes to stare directly at him.

Anders jumped away in surprise, letting out a hiss. Sheesh! Did he have to scare him like that? The dog only watched him for a bit but after he decided that a cat wouldn’t be much of a danger, he went back to dozing.

After coming down from the initial shock, Anders came closer again. This time, he would DEFINTELY rub his head all over the dog.

Hawke and Isabela had just opened the second bottle of wine when they heard whining from the other room. The looked at each other for a moment before both leaving the library to see what was wrong. Neither of them would have expected the scene that unfolded in front of them.

There was dog, sitting next to the fire and whining as if someone had stepped on his paws on purpose. There was Fenris, changing his location every few seconds. And finally, the was Anders, fluffy little Anders, who kept following the wolf. Whenever Fenris settled down on a new spot, Anders was there, purring, rubbing against Fenris with his head, trying to lick the white fur clean with his raspy little cat tongue.

Fenris got up, walked to the other side of the room and sat down again. Anders followed.

Isabela couldn’t hold a chuckle. “Poor Fenris. Seems like Anders immediately took a liking to him. Who would have thought. And Dog is obviously jealous. What a tragic love triangle.”

Hawke watched, wondering if he had missed something. If anything, he would have expected them to hiss at each other. Not… this.

By now, Fenris had returned to the fireplace and it seemed like he had given up because when Anders came to continue his displays of affection, the wolf didn’t move away anymore. Anders tried to groom the wolf for a while but had to realize soon that he wouldn’t get far this way. Instead, he snuggled up to Fenris, purring. After a few moment, the wolf curled around the cat protectively and they stayed like this.

Dog’s whines became even more miserable.


	5. Lyrium Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a three part story that I put together to one chapter in the trashpile! Those were three prompts on tumblr that I made into a little continuation.
> 
> WARNING for kinda sorta character death and lots of pain. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

It was painful, seeing Fenris like this. Anders had come to Hightown to check on him, like he did every few days after they had killed his former master. Shortly after the incident at the Hanged Man, Fenris had started secluding himself, refusing to go on missions or even to let anyone visit him.  
  
As it turned out, it was not just because he was being broody or because the betrayal of his sister had left such an emotional impact on him. His tattoos had started acting up, which he had tried to hide from his friends. Anders still wanted to slap him fro that.  
  
Now, Anders kept visiting him because Fenris refused to come down to his clinic. The markings along Fenris’ skin lit up and dimmed in random patterns and it was clear that it caused Fenris an indescribable amount of pain. Sometimes, he would phase through things without wanting to. Once, Anders had found him with a hand stuck in the floor, pulling violently at it and cursing. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been a sign that something even worse was going to happen sooner or later.  
  
This time, Fenris wasn’t stuck anywhere. He was on his bed, glowing, writhing in pain. Anders rushed towards him, already starting to push healing magic into Fenris’ body. Whatever this was, he couldn’t heal it. He could only ease the pain for a while. Anders had tried to find something in his books about what to do but there wasn’t even a mention of lyrium tattoos anywhere. Of course not.He had read the book about the negative effect of lyrium on the body twice already but that hadn’t given him any ideas, either.  
  
“Even after I killed him…. he still haunts me. These markings… will kill me.” Fenris had calmed after the healing magic had started to lessen the pain. The glow dimmed for now and Anders let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.  
  
“We will find out how to solve this problem.”  
  
“What can YOU do?! You don’t even know what they are! No one knows! This is the kind of thing mages do! Playing around with things they don’t understand without caring what they will cause.” Fenris had sat up, snapping at Anders in a violent outburst. Usually, Anders would argue. Maker knew, he wanted to. But Fenris was right. If they didn’t find the source of this soon…  
  
“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”  
  
“You will die, too.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I still got a few years. We both know that neither of us is going to get very old.” Anders smiled. “But I can’t let you die already, you know? Who will I argue with about mage rights?”  
  
Fenris would deny it even in his grave but he really did have puppy eyes. They looked at him for a few silent moments. Then, Fenris turned his head away.  
  
“Can you… stay? Just for a little while.”  
  
“Of course.”

* * *

 

Fenris screamed. It burned. White hot pain that ate him up from his skin to his bones, filling him with pure light.  
  
He kneeled in the mud. Ice cold rain was falling from the sky but he didn’t even feel it, didn’t even notice it. His thoughts were consumed by the agony and he forced his eye open, staring at his hands. They glowed and burned. His markings had turned into white flames and everything around them… disappeared. He disappeared.  
  
Breathing was hard and painful and Fenris was alone. No one was here to hear him, to help him. Not even… Anders. Why was Anders not here? Why had Anders abandoned him?  
  
“You said you would always be with me! You lied to me!” Fenris remembered the ritual that had given him these markings. This was exactly like it. He felt himself slipping. He wouldn’t be able to endure much more of this.  
  
Anders wasn’t here. Anders who had been an annoying nuisance, who had argued with him for years. Anders who was a mage, an abomination. Anders who had healed him and touched softly and carefully and who had been there when his markings had started to kill him. And now he wasn’t here.  
  
Fenris didn’t even have the chance to say good bye.  
  
Everything was white. If it meant that the pain would stop, Fenris wouldn’t fight against it anymore. Let him become the ghost that he had, in a way, always been. Let there be an end to all of this.  
  
Anders had promised to always be with and he had lied. Even so, Fenris wanted to see him again, just one more time.  
  
There was no pain. There was… nothing.

* * *

 

Faster, he needed to be faster.  
  
Anders ran as fast as his legs could possible allow him. His lungs burned and rain was mercilessly pouring down on him from above, drenching him to his bones.  
  
It didn’t matter.  
  
He needed to find Fenris. They had gotten separated and now… he had not healed him in a while. The markings had gotten worse and worse during the last weeks, the last days. He had tried to find a cure, even going as far as to try reading books on Tevinter magic and old rituals. Still nothing. And now he needed to find Fenris.  
  
Anders called out for him but there was no answer, so he kept going, his ears filled with the noise of his own rush of blood, rain and the squelch of his boots in the mud.  
  
Fenris was nowhere to be found but there… was a faint light in the distance. Anders was hopeful for a second, though as he came closer, he realized that it was just a spirit, aimlessly wandering.  
  
Wait… a spirit? How could a random spirit be here? That couldn’t be coincidence-  
  
Once Anders came close enough to make out details, his heart skipped a beat and his breath got stuck in throat. No. This couldn’t be. He refused to believe what he was seeing.  
  
The spirit looked vaguely like an elf, a white and wispy creature, as if made of fog, with pointed ears and glowing green eyes. The most shocking part however were the white lines that wandered all over the spirit’s body. Markings that looked suspiciously like the ones belonging to a certain Tevinter elf.  
  
Anders’ fell onto his knees, every last bit of strength leaving him. Breathing had become nothing but painful gasps. Not all the wetness on his cheeks came from the rain anymore.  
  
The spirit kept wandering, never straying to far from his original place. He looked around, as if searching for something.  
  
“Where am I… who am I…”  
  
A powerful sob teared itself from Anders’ throat and his hands found wet grass and soft mud. That voice. It was hollow now but still unmistakably Fenris. He had come too late. And because of that Fenris was… Fenris had become…  
  
“SHIT!” Anders broke. He couldn’t keep his crying quiet anymore. He screamed and sobbed, pounding his fists into the floor. He was becoming dirtier by the second but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered! He had promised Fenris to always be with him but now look at him! He had turned into a spirit! He didn’t even remember who he was! Anders cursed the Maker and Andraste and even the Elven gods and himself. He hated this world so much for what it did to mages and what it did to those who couldn’t protect themselves and for stealing Fenris.  
  
He would have accepted any other punishment but fate had to take the one thing that had become irreplaceable to him. First Karl. Now this. Why? Why did they all slip from fingers? Why was it always his fault that they died?  
  
“You… I recognize you.”  
  
Anders looked up. He blinked rapidly to get the tears out of his eyes. The spirit was hovering directly in front of him now.  
  
“I remember… pain. You made it… go away. You made me feel… warm. Loved. I want to stay with you.”  
  
It took Anders exactly three seconds to start crying again. He couldn’t endure this. How could he live with a Fenris who had turned into a spirit, following around as a constant reminder of the fact that he had failed in saving him? He couldn’t bear this. He couldn’t even look at Fenris any longer.  
  
Even so, the spirit stayed, hovering above him, glowing softly.


	6. Wanna dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr prompt "Wanna dance?" It's short.

“So Fenris, I heard that you like to dance when you’re alone in that big house of yours?”  
  
Anders’ smile couldn’t be described as anything less than mischievous while he stared at Fenris. They were both standing in the big foyer of Fenris’ mansion - or rather, the mansion that he was illegally inhabiting - and Anders took the broom he had been leaning on just a moment ago, twirling around the room with it.  
  
“It’s a wonder you didn’t trip over every corpse while practicing.” He sad giggling and stopped right in front of Fenris. He let go of the brrom, instead holding out his hand in an inviting gesture. “Wanna dance?”  
  
“We are cleaning.” Fenris answered. He had watched Anders with quite a bit of annoyance and refused to go along with… whatever this was. Perhaps Anders was trying to mock him, as he always was when he wasn’t being a clingy boyfriend or ranting about mage rights. “You bugged me about this for weeks. So how about you dance with that broom again instead and sweep the floor while you’re at it?”  
  
“We’ve been cleaning for hours! I’m bored, let’s take a break.” Before Fenris could protest, Anders had already grabbed both of his hands and moved, Fenris stumbling after him.  
  
“Come on! I thought you like dancing!”  
  
“That was a joke, Anders! I don’t actually dance!”  
  
Anders grinned again and this time it was even worse than before. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”  
  
That was the moment when Fenris had enough. He freed himself from Anders’ grip, reaching around him and lifting him up instead. Anders was quite a bit taller than Fenris but the elf was strong, strong enough to carry any of his friends without problem. Still, Anders was surprised, squirming a little at first before he started giggling while Fenris twirled him around once.  
  
“Perhaps I should make you dance on me instead, if you’re so eager.” The slightest smile tugged at Fenris’ lips now. Anders couldn’t keep himself from outright laughing anymore.  
  
“Alright, you win. This time. I will make you dance, though. Eventually.”


	7. I'm Terrified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tumblr prompt! "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”  
  
When those words left Anders’ mouth, he had already gone through the possible outcomes hundreds of times in his head. He had expected Fenris to snap at him, tell him that what they had was just physical and that he would never feel anything for an abomination. He had entertained the thought that Fenris would perhaps get so mad that he would just push a hand into Anders’ chest and squeeze. Sometimes, he had even fantasized about the possibility that Fenris felt the same, that he would kiss him and that they would have a real relationship from then on, instead of just visiting each other sometimes to fuck.  
  
Fenris, however, did none of these things. He stared at Anders, silent and in shock. Then, he fled, mumbling something about having to go and leaving Anders alone in his clinic. Well, at least he wasn’t dead, right?  
  
What followed were days, weeks, in which Fenris did everything just to avoid Anders. He wouldn’t come to the Hanged Man when Anders was there, he would refuse to go on missions when Anders was coming and when they saw each other by chance, Fenris wouldn’t talk to him. Anders was heartbroken but also furious. This was so much worse than as if Fenris had just gotten angry at him. Even the option with his heart getting squished started sounding more appealing.  
  
At the of the third week after the confession, Anders had had enough of this. He walked - stomped, really - all the way to Hightown, determined to at least get some kind of closure. And if he would have to punch that stupid elf in the face before he got an actual answer. He had lain awake night after night going through the scene in his head. Justice had been nagging as well. The elf had been a distraction anyway. Even so, it was not fair to just walk away after Anders had confessed his feelings. It was not just.  
  
Of course Anders was still terrified. This was exactly what he had not wanted to happen. If only he would have kept his big mouth shut. Maybe things would have taken a turn for the better. Maybe he would have lost his feelings at one point. Then again, like this, the process would be much faster.  
  
Once he stood in front of the mansion that loomed over him, seeming almost threatening, he wasn’t so sure about that plan of his anymore. He swallowed and let himself in without knocking.  
  
Bad idea. He wasn’t even inside for a minute before he got tackled to the floor, an angry glowing elf sitting on him who was about to crush one of his vital organs and end him. As soon as Fenris got a better look at him, his glowing stopped however, even if he didn’t get up.  
  
“It’s just you.” Fenris’ tone sounded as if he was talking about the weather and for some reason, that made Anders furious, lighting the fire once again that had made him come here in the first place. He glared up at Fenris, snarling.  
  
“Yes, it’s me! After three weeks of not talking to me, not wanting to SEE me, I demand an answer! Do you think you can just avoid me from now on and be done with it? Andraste’s tits, Fenris, if you have to reject me, at least SAY something! Don’t do this to me!” His voice became louder, angrier, desperate even. He didn’t even care anymore about the awkward position, he just wanted to let Fenris know what colossal prick he was.  
  
Said colossal prick was silent. He simply stared at him and waited, even when Anders was already done with his angry rant. The silence between them was uncomfortable at best and infuriating at worst. Finally, his gaze wandered to a stain on the wall. Anders almost wished he was that stain because apparently, it was more interesting than he was.  
  
“I’m… sorry. I know that this reaction hurt you but I couldn’t face you anymore after I had already run away. I just… I didn’t…”  
  
“What? WHAT?! Spit it out, you stupid elf!”  
  
“I’m terrified, too.”  
  
That made Anders shut up.


	8. You're the only one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is turning into my dumpster for tumblr prompts I think. This one is "You're the only one I trust to do this."

Everything felt too small. The room was too small for his anger. His rib cage was too small for his heart. His head was too small for his thoughts. His body was too small to house his own soul as well as a fade spirit.  
  
He had almost killed a defenseless circle mage. The very person he had wanted to protect. Now he sat inside the little room he called his own. Hawke had left him alone after the incident. They had been angry. Rightly so. Anders wouldn’t want to talk to himself, either.  
  
He heard someone enter the clinic. Had he forgotten to lock the door? The lantern wasn’t lit so his patients should know that he wasn’t working right now.  
  
When he left his room, he was surprised and to find that it was Fenris who was standing in the middle of his clinic as if he owned the place. This was the last person Anders wanted to see right now. He frowned at the elf.  
  
“What are you doing here? Have you come to gloat? Yes, tell me that you had been right all along. I’m an abomination and I almost killed an innocent and I have no control over myself.”  
  
Fenris only looked at him with a seriousness in his eyes that made Anders want to squirm. A gaze this intense could burn holes into armor, he was sure.  
  
“I came to see if your’re alright.”  
  
“I don’t… what?”  
  
Suddenly, Fenris’ eyes weren’t on him anymore, seemingly counting the potions on his shelf. “I know what it feels like to… kill someone who wouldn’t have deserved it. You didn’t kill her however, so be thankful. We all have limitations. Maybe it’s time that you accept yours.” He turned around then. “You seem well enough to snap at me, so I’m leaving.”  
  
“Fenris, wait.”  
  
Anders wasn’t sure why he had just said that. He wasn’t sure why Fenris had said that, either. Had this been… an attempt to show sympathy? From the last person he would have expected it from? Anders took a deep breath. Fenris had stopped in his movement but he had very limited patience, Anders knew.  
  
“I need you to do something for me. The next time such a thing happens, I… need you to stop me, whatever it takes.”  
  
Fenris looked back at Anders, frowning. “Why are you asking me?”  
  
“You’re the only one I trust to do this.” He wasn’t sure if Hawke would, not anymore. He didn’t even know if Hawke would even talk to him ever again. But Fenris? Fenris would surely have no problem with… doing what had to be done. He was good for that.  
  
Fenris seemed to ponder these words for a moment. Then, he nodded and finally left. For some inexplicable reason, Anders felt better.


	9. Traditional Tevinter Oil Sparring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was, in fact, NOT a prompt but for a friend just because. It's silly. Don't take it seriously. People on tumblr seemed to like it so I'm posting it here. It's about naked sparring and oil.

“Sooo… what are we doing again?”

“Sparring.”

Anders swallowed and watched as Fenris took of his gauntlets, his breastplate and finally his tunic with a routine that was both graceful and efficient.

“Right. Sparring. And… why do we have to be naked?”

A pair of intensely green eyes found his. Fenris frowned but then again, he always did.

“You were the one loudly proclaimed “fight me” in front of everyone. So we will fight.” He paused shortly, as if to contemplate something, his eyes darting around the foyer of Fenris’ mansion. No one would bother them here and seeing as everything in this mansion was destroyed anway, it wouldn’t make much difference if something broke. The corpses in the corner were a bit of a bizarre audience though, Anders had to admit.

“It’s supposed to be traditional Tevinter oil fighting… I don’t have any oil, however.”

“Oi?” Anders’ voice sounded almost squeaky. First they had to undress and now Fenris was talking about oil… if didn’t know any better he would almost think that guy wanted to seduce him… but this WAS Fenris… then again, it wasn’t like he couldn’t try to enjoy this.. oil fighting as well, right? Suddenly there was a grin on Anders’ lips.

“So in theory, if we HAD oil… would each of us be oiling up themselves or…? Because I might know a spell.” Suddenly undressing was so much fun.

Fenris made a huffing noise, probably because he had already expected and answer like this.

“Of course you would want to solve this with magic. I’m warning you, no magic during the fight. I won’t use my markings, either, as long as you follow the rules. As for the oil, it depends. Sometimes you oil yourself up. Sometimes there are slaves who do it for you and sometimes… the loser of the last match has the… honor.”

Anders chuckled nervously. “Just asking because, well, there’s… this spot on my back I just can’t reach, hahaha, so, you know, I think that… IN THEORY… I WOULD need some help…”

Not that he actually believed that Fenris would ever voluntarily touch him except to punch him or something, especially not if there was oil involved. He now only wore his smalls just like Fenris. It wasn’t completely naked but. close enough. And Maker, Fenris’ tattoos really went everywhere…

“We could go a first round without the oil. IF you manage to defeat me, I can be coerced into helping you. Not that I believe you will win.“ Fenris smiled. No, he smirked, all smug and confident, knowing that he could defeat a squishy mage any day. But Anders was not squishy and he would show that prick as much.

And then he would get… Fenris to rub oil all over him… and try not to get aroused. Great. That was the best plan he had ever had in his life, he was sure of it.


	10. Wet Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the tumblr prompts. It said Fenders and wet hair. This is also silly.

„Hawke, do you really think that’s a good idea?“  
  
“Isabela wants a bath. So I’ll give her one.”  
  
Hawke grinned and Anders gave the floating bucket – held up by Hawke’s force magic - a skeptical look. During his younger days in the circle, that kind of prank wouldn’t even have entertained him. Maybe if the bucket was filled with paint, preferably in a color like yellow or pink. Now however, he had grown up, he was mature and wise and above jokes at the expense of another person. Well, that and Justice wouldn’t let him. And granted, Isabela did smell like a brewery with a hint of less appetizing aromas and as much as she always talked about it, she never actually took that damn bath.  
  
They sat in Hawke’s study, an array of comfortable armchairs forming a half-circle around the fireplace. Hawke had invited him, Isabela and Fenris to come on his next adventure and they were to discuss details here. Not that such a thing happened often, usually it was just “Hey, I need a healer.” and Anders could be glad that Hawke didn’t just throw him over that broad shoulder of his and carry him out of his clinic without so much as listening to his answer. Not that Fenris would be very happy about that. Or Anders, for that matter.  
  
So this meeting the day before and discussing things over snacks and next to a warm fire seemed too good to be true but so far, Anders was the only guest who had arrived. One would think that it would be Fenris since he had the shortest way to go but the elf and Isabela were nowhere to be seen.  
  
Outside the door, they heard Bodahn’s voice cheerily greeting a new arrival, then a female voice, unmistakably Isabela. Hawke gave him a mischievous grin and he rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Isabela probably wouldn’t even mind and ask if Hawke had intended to make her outfit see-through and that he should have just asked.  
  
The door opened and the bucket turned upside down, emptying its contest on the unlucky person beneath. Hawke’s smile vanished as soon as he saw that this was, in fact, not Isabela he had just drenched to the bone. Anders gasped. Oh shit.  
  
Fenris hadn’t even flinched at the water as it was poured all over him. He simply stared at the two humans with barely held back annoyance and hint of confusion, his hair clinging to his forehead and dripping onto the floor. He looked like a wet dog.  
  
“Hawke.”  
  
“I’m so sorry Fenris, I-“  
  
“Was there a reason for this… unusual welcome?”  
  
Behind Fenris, they could hear amused laughter and then a triumphant “I knew it!”  
  
“Yeah, that was not intended for you. I’m so sorry Fenris, I’ll get you a towel.”  
  
Hawke got up from his chair, gave Fenris an apologetic smile and vanished through the door, leaving Anders and the wet elf alone.  
  
“I told him that it wasn’t a good idea.”  
  
Fenris simply grunted in return, making his way to the fire and taking the seat that Hawke had left just a minute ago. Anders gave him a skeptical look.  
  
“You’re dripping on Hawke’s chair.”  
  
“It’s his water, I suspect he wants it back.”  
  
Now that was some impeccable logic Anders couldn’t argue with, so he chuckled instead and took a moment to take in Fenris’ appearance. Small droplets fell from the ends of drenched white strands, dripping onto his cheeks and slowly making their way towards his neck while the light of the fire illuminated him in warm hues. Anders had a sudden urge to comb his fingers through Fenris’ hair and chase water droplets with his tongue.  
  
“You know, this look actually suits you.”  
  
Green elven eyes gave him a rather unamused side-glance and Fenris scoffed.  
  
“The look of a wet dog?”  
  
“No, more along the lines of… water running down your body in small rivers, your hair clinging to your skin, you shiver because of the cold and get close to me to share body heat. We kiss in the rain and our clothes are drenched but we don’t care because we need each other like air. Something like that.”  
  
The look that Fenris gave him, all bewildered and incredulous, made Anders chuckle. Seemed like someone wasn’t as eager to act out this romantic fantasy of his.  
  
“I don’t see the appeal. If rain was soaking through me like you described, that would be the last thing on my mind.”  
  
“Killjoy. At least let me dry your hair when Hawke returns with the towel.”  
  
As if on cue, Hawke entered the room just then, carrying two towels. The elf got up from the armchair. He accepted the towels, wrapping the bigger one around him and sitting down in front of Anders on the surprisingly plush rug. Anders seemed disappointed that Fenris hadn’t chosen his lap to sit on but started rubbing Fenris’ hair dry anyway. Hawke stared at his now wet chair.  
  
“I… guess I deserved that.”  
  
Isabela laughed as she joined them, patting Hawke on the shoulder. “You definitely did. Serves you right for thinking you could play a prank on me.”


End file.
